


Minx

by yeaka



Series: Eye of a Prize [5]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Ficlet, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, PWP, Self-Lubrication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 09:45:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8707546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Maeglin’s difficult, but when the heat comes, he’s still an omega in need.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is set in the same ‘unwanted!omega-refuge!Imladris’ setting as the Eye of a Prize series, but it’s in no way necessary to read any of that for this. Pairing voted by fionwe--urion, vanillapin, and BangtanAndAngband [here.](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/146581537895/tolkien-abo)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings, The Silmarillion, or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s been a long day of exhaustive training, and he’s eager for _rest_ , but he knows halfway down the corridor that he won’t get the chance. His quarters are in an otherwise secluded wing, shared only by Erestor, who rarely brings omegas into his fold. The pungent stench of _heat_ wafts down the entire hall, so potent and pointed that Glorfindel already knows the source: few omegas reek like Maeglin.

Sure enough, he opens the door to an assault of pheromones, raging in the air like a broiling storm. Glorfindel lets out a weary sigh and slips in anyway, glad he stripped of most of his armour in the training yard. Now all he has to remove is his sword and boots, both of which he sets against the wall to be properly dealt with later. Even that short delay earns him a fiery glare. He can feel it boring holes into his back. When he turns, Maeglin scowls and hisses into his pillow, “You are _late_.”

Glorfindel only lifts a brow. He was always patient, but his time with Elrond has made him even more so. He knows few others can tolerate Maeglin’s insolence. Rather than point out that they had no appointment, Glorfindel sweeps across his bedchambers to open the doors of his balcony and draw the curtains wide. The moonlight streams in, only the stars the same as the world they both once knew. If this heat is to be anything like the last time, they’ll need the cool night air. Only then does Glorfindel turn to Maeglin and sigh, “Again?”

“Just shut up and fuck me,” Maeglin growls haughtily. Another night, such crude words would be beneath him. His gaze is cold steel, but his cheeks betray his embarrassment; he’s flushed deep red all the way to the tips of his pointed ears. His plush lips are almost pouting. When Glorfindel doesn’t move, Maeglin adjusts his place, lying on his stomach with his arms wrapped tightly around one of Glorfindel’s larger pillows, and he lifts up on his knees to tilt his rear towards Glorfindel. His thighs spread, his long braid of black hair sliding down his lower back. He wears nothing, and his creamy skin is lit magnificently under the stars. His hard cock swings between his legs, balls still tight and taut. His pink hole glistens wetly and twitches in open invitation. It’s the one part of him that actually looks welcoming. 

Glorfindel shamelessly stares at it and casually drawls, “You are a rotten little brat, Maeglin. Are there no others you deem worthy enough to relieve you?”

Maeglin hisses, “There are _none_ worthy here.” And that makes Glorfindel smile.

All his great deeds, all his valour, all the stories written of him and the songs still sung, and not a one means a thing to Maeglin. Erestor has asked him how he stands it, how he doesn’t long to slit Maeglin’s throat for all the sins Maeglin sowed, but it’s in Glorfindel’s nature to forgive. More than enough time has passed to see Maeglin as the poor, lost omega that he is, and most days, the petulance only gives Glorfindel amusement. If nothing else, he gets his ironic ‘revenge’ in this: being the only one Maeglin will turn to.

Maeglin wriggles his tight ass and digs a frustrated moan into the pillow. His saliva’s already soaked the end. Stray beads of sweat already cling to his glistening skin. He is, at least, beautiful. 

And he’s an omega in need, however troublesome he is. Glorfindel made a vow to Elrond to aid those. So he finally strolls towards the bed, taking pleasure in the hunger and delight that flicker through Maeglin’s eyes. Maeglin drops his ass as soon as Glorfindel’s knee hits the bed, and he rolls around onto his back, spreading his legs wide again. His plump cock is hard against his slender stomach, his dusty nipples pebbled and flushed. Glorfindel can’t help but wonder if Maeglin has spent the evening touching himself to Glorfindel’s scent on the bed. It’s an attractive thought. Even in the new position, Maeglin keeps his grip on the pillow, as though unwilling to leave his arms free to clutch at Glorfindel. Glorfindel lets it alone, knowing full well that Maeglin will come undone somewhere near the middle of the night and clutch to Glorfindel’s shoulders, cry into his neck and beg to be properly _kissed_. Maeglin’s heats are strong, and he always wants Glorfindel to hold him in the end.

Glorfindel will. He’s not cruel. Even after all Maeglin put him through, he does his best to help. He crawls over to grab Maeglin’s slim hips and flip Maeglin over in one deft movement. Maeglin cries out but doesn’t have the muscle to resist. Glorfindel puts him on his stomach again and hikes his legs back up, because if he won’t act like a lover, then Glorfindel won’t treat him quite like one.

At least, not until later, when Glorfindel will inevitably grow tired and Maeglin will beg to be taken sweetly. For now, he snarls like an animal, and Glorfindel slaps his tender ass and soothes, “Shh, I will take you.”

Maeglin looks over his shoulder with wide, dilated eyes and furrowed brows. He’s breathing hard, as heats will do. Glorfindel can practically feel his body tremble with each breath. Glorfindel fishes himself out of his breeches and ignores the glare he gets for keeping the rest of his clothes on. He’ll likely get too hot for them later. Then he’ll lie, naked and spent, across the sheets, and let Maeglin lick and suck him everywhere. He keeps his dignity while he can. He brushes all his blond hair over his shoulder and pulls Maeglin’s rear into place, his cock nudging up against the waiting hole. Maeglin abandons all else in favour of a long, telling moan. His brim flutters prettily open. 

Glorfindel pushes in with one harsh, sudden movement, that ploughs Maeglin right down into the mattress and drags out a ragged cry. It’s loud enough to pierce the walls; Erestor will be cross in the morning. But Maeglin is usually quite vocal in bed, and Glorfindel enjoys his rasping voice too much to stifle it. Buried to the hilt in a delicious, cloying furnace, Glorfindel rolls his hips and drinks it in. Maeglin’s insides are so _soft_ and dripping wet, spongy and livid around him, wracked with wild spasms that feel like nothing else. The pleasure is dizzying, nearly overwhelming, for that first thrust, and Glorfindel needs a moment to adjust. He would not be so rough if he didn’t know that Maeglin longs for that—if he’d nudged gently in like the first time this happened, Maeglin would only pester him to go _harder_. So now he goes hard from the gate, grinding Maeglin’s supple body into the mattress and filling him for all he’s worth.

When Glorfindel rises up for the next one, he takes Maeglin’s hips with him, and Maeglin mewls but pushes back, spine arched in a sensuous curve. Glorfindel arranges Maeglin’s knees properly in the mattress and circles his cock around one more time; it makes a wet squelching sound as he rearranges the juices trapped in Maeglin’s ass, and a thin stream dribbles out to drench his balls. Glorfindel reaches under to give them a sharp squeeze—Maeglin screams profusely, so _erotic_ —and Glorfindel retracts his hands again to Maeglin’s hips. He digs deep into the tender flesh, probably hard enough to leave bruises from his fingers in the morning. But it’ll be needed to hold Maeglin up. He drags his cock half out only to slam brutally inside, and Maeglin nearly chokes on his cry while the _pleasures_ shoots through Glorfindel’s veins. It feels _so good_.

Every thrust after that is just as delicious as the last. Glorfindel pulls out to pound forward, does it again, again, holding Maeglin’s hips up while Maeglin buries his sweet cries in the pillows and writhes uncontrollably. The harder Glorfindel fucks him, the wetter he becomes. It’s an aphrodisiac in itself: the _want_ in Maeglin’s body, even if he’s too stubborn to admit it in words. Glorfindel can _feel_ it. Most of all, he can feel the velvet slickness of Maeglin’s taut walls, so tight that Glorfindel would worry of causing pain if not for Maeglin’s wetness and eager hips trembling to hump him back. Each time Maeglin’s squirming reveals a peek at his flushed face, Glorfindel goes harder. He’s so very _lovely_ like this: all the scorn stripped away for a thick blush and fluttering lashes, hazy eyes and wet, open lips, one gasp after another, little whimpers and moans as Glorfindel ravages his body. Soon Maeglin’s thrusting back into Glorfindel so hard that he may as well be the one fucking himself on Glorfindel’s cock. When Glorfindel realizes that Maeglin is hiding words into the pillow, Glorfindel yanks his head back by the hair to listen to them.

“ _Yesss_ ,” is the first cry, followed by a needy, “Please, oh, _yes_ , Gl—Gl—!” He keeps biting his lip to stop the name they both hear on his tongue, but Glorfindel punishes him with more merciless thrusts and he breaks into other sobs of, “Oh, yes, more! Harder! _AHHH_!” Glorfindel listens as he can, but he knows, with his strength, that if he fucks Maeglin any harder, the poor thing won’t be able to walk for days, and the bed will likely break, and Elrond will give him that disapproving _look_. But Elrond doesn’t know how desperate Maeglin is in heat, how horrendously he breaks, how good he feels and how much he _deserves this._ He’s covered in the thick stench of sweat and sex and his own arousal, and Glorfindel longs to cover him in seed. 

The first round comes to an end too quick, but it’s been a long time since the last, and Glorfindel hasn’t fucked anyone this hard since. His final thrust bursts right through his grip to slam Maeglin into the bed, and even as the hot seed bubbles out of Glorfindel’s cock, he keeps pounding in. Maeglin whimpers and writhes and clenches tight around him. Glorfindel comes jet after jet and pumps Maeglin full of it, his head spiraling off into the clouds, until he’s lost all sense of temperature and weight and could almost pass out from delight. Maeglin is _screaming_. 

Maeglin is coming. Glorfindel can hear the sick slush of it along the sheets. Maeglin’s thighs are already a sticky mess. When Glorfindel pulls back to look, he finds Maeglin’s ass red and raw. The second Glorfindel starts to slide his cock out, Maeglin whines and tries to thrust back onto it. Glorfindel has to hold the small of his back against the bed to withdraw, chiding evenly, “Be still.”

Maeglin won’t, of course. He’s hard again in a heartbeat, if he ever flagged at all. As Glorfindel settles back to lean against the headboard, Maeglin lifts up on shaking hands and knees and crawls between Glorfindel’s open legs. He has no time to tuck himself back in before Maeglin’s ducking down to lick his leaking cock. Glorfindel affectionately reaches out to ruffle Maeglin’s hair, and Maeglin scowls but keeps licking. Each swipe of his soft tongue helps Glorfindel to stir again, but he’ll still need a little time. Maeglin humps the bed in the meantime and mouths all around Glorfindel’s crotch, breathing in and moaning wantonly and eyes burning for _more_.

When he nips at Glorfindel’s thigh through the breeches there, Glorfindel chuckles, “Be gentle, or I will never claim you properly.” Maeglin wrinkles his nose at that, which just gives Glorfindel a fond grin. Perhaps it would be fitting. Perhaps that’s why Maeglin comes only to him. For now, he lets Maeglin play. Maeglin nips at the base of his cock for punishment, which Glorfindel lightly winces at but otherwise tolerates. Maeglin seems to soften a second later and laves over the pink hue he left, lapping it apologetically. He’s vaguely _cute_ like this.

And someday, perhaps, Glorfindel will make this arrangement more permanent. He’ll help Maeglin regardless. He settles back to rest for the coming night—surely long but pleasant—until Maeglin climbs into his lap and whispers, “ _Please._ ”


End file.
